This? is what we do…

So, we had an ice cream celebration last night… =)  I tried to take some pictures of “Real life”… Turned in all the signatures for the personhood petition today… taking my cats to the vet tomorrow. Keep praying, everybody!  and Smyling! <>< = )

Crashing Down…

When this beautiful world
Comes crashing down.

Just
a
few
days,
And then you found,
 
That you couldn’t live without
The poison,
You couldn’t swallow life without drinking
Very Death.

You got out on the water,
Then started looking around.

You liked it better,
You said,
When your feet
Were on that soggy ground,

And your lungs were filled with water!
And your friends
Looked on with grief!

You liked what you had
Sworn to hate!
Plagued now -always-
With bitter unbelief.

“What a downer,
“Lift me up!”
Renew this once-soft heart.
Rebuild this
Ruined temple!
Lord,
Show me where to start.”

Mirrored The Misty Sky…

The mist was like her hair,
Hung down
In wavy, wispy, swirls.
Her thoughts were as round
And as beautiful
As those accidental curls.

God got to hear
Her ramblings,
That mirrored
The misty sky,
While I stood -far,
Far away,
And wondered…
Wondered-
… by.

Forever Clear the Beaches…

Those memories
Flood back,
I float
On their dark,
Dark waves.
Those memories
Flood back,
O, that
They were in
Their graves.

Never more,
To haunt
My thoughts,
My dreams,
My hopes,
My reaches.
To bury them
Beneath grey flowers,
And clear
Them from
The beaches.

To walk on fresh swept sand,
To feel
The foamy crystal sea.
To know this had been ever-planned,
And real.
From: God
To: me.

Unfold This Mirror…

Do I care?  I do not…
For others not my own…
All are God’s
Let >Him< care for them…

Through whom? 

Through me.
I’ve known.

Not easy, not wanted, not cared for.
I’ll reflect, of God, >nearly< all.
In absence of obedience, once,
Known, in rejecting, I fall.

I cannot stretch out yesterday
In truth, only in lies. 
Tomorrow is true-stretchable,
To reflect Ever-after’s eyes. (skies?)

To unroll my fleshy mirror
-It’s been rolled up for so long-
Is a constant struggle to fight the folds,
To do not a right is wrong.

That corner’s reflection blinds me,
When unrolled for moments brief,
And so I leave it folded, covered,
And become, of sinners, cheif.

The rest of my living mirror recoils,
Without that corner held flat.
I cannot, will not, am not.
I’ll do “everything” but that.

“Everything” means nothing!
When some of all is gone.
“Not in actions -deeds- but heart,
Which side’f the fence’re you on?”

To say both is to do none at all.
In truth, a failure still,
I walk, this dirty unfolding mirror
Creased, cluttered by my will.

God, You must clean, unfold muddy mirrors,
Reflecting Your Holy Name.
Casting out all fears, for sinners to seek
And to save, You came.

“… in Truth.”

To worship on that mountain.
To dance in Zion’s street,
To worship in Jerusalem,
To hear GOD! in bare feet.

A time is coming and now is,
When worship will not be,
In or on, with or without,
But IN Truth, and spiritually.

God is worthy, any-where
Our
Souls
Should ever-see
And walk ever without sandals, for
All its ground,
Hallowed, be.

“… in Truth,” He said,

As if’t were a place,
That one might enter through gates of Logic,
Climb lofty heights of Faith,
Cherish the intricate architecture of Time!
Or,
Reverently enjoy the Scultpor’s clay between bare toes!

This, is where I will worship my God!

In Spirit, and… in Truth!

While Walking in Eden…

Tragedy’s an addiction, a sharpened blade
Such that when grasped or embraced,
Does dull the senses
To the beautiful intricacies of contentment.

A quiet, peaceable life-
Not for the bareness of a vast room,
But for the thickness of an Eden-
Is the Divinely destined dream.
Rejected, by now-slaves of empty halls
Full of windows.
Windows, truly mirrors,
Placing what is inside, out,
To be watched, and judged as other,
Though never truly there, but ever-here.

To hear other, yet see self.
A taunting solitude.
The greatest prison is to know nothing
Of the face of any other.
The greatest freedom is
For eyes to drink the true face of
God,
While walking in Eden.

-MAC <>< = )

A balance fulcrumed in the story of the stars…

“When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
Before high piled books, in charact’ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.”

-John Keats.

blows my mind…

That is all.

-MAC <>< = )

If I go crazy, then…

“If I go crazy then will you still call me super man? …”

Would you?

Of course not.

Most likely you wouldn’t have called me super man in the first place.

Tonight, I realize there are plenty who’ve come before me who haven’t been super men either… but they’ve been men, they’ve experienced life, they’ve fallen, some have been picked up.  They’ve sung songs, cried tears, laughed for nigh-inexpressible joy, heard stories, lived stories, told stories, seen stories come… and go. 

Tonight, I was the tellee… tonight, my mother poured perfect little mind-bite sized stories onto the plate between us, and we ate them together…

late into the night.

3:30 it is now, and she’s just gone to bed, after apologizing for having kept me up so late. 

I don’t mind.

My eyelids are tight, from dried yawn-tears…

My brother’s lock pick set is tucked safely away in the side zipper pocket of my sling bag… a bottle of iron dust -collected half a decade ago- rubs shoulders with some long-forgotten (some broken) toys, all crammed into a small cardboard box whose original occupation was to hold (to a twelve year old) the world’s greatest cereal bars.

So many memories…

“No way was that him.” I say to myself, as my mind plays back memories I have of wrestling with a short, scrawny, pale-skinned, blonde-haired kid in a tank top. 

I just heard the wind roaring over the top of the chimney. 

God, what would You have me do tomorrow?

“He has shown you, oh man, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you: but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

“Teach me, oh Lord, the way of Your statutes, and I shall keep it to the end.”

“Nothing’s going to change…”  “Everybody’s changing, and I… don’t feel the same.”

“Life’s a dance you learn as you go.”

“Unless a grain of wheat… fall to the ground… and die! …”

“A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.”

“Cards and flowers on your window… your friends all plead for you to stay.”

G’night!

-MAC <>< = )]

P.S. Dreams?   tonight, God?  hmmm?  Pleeeeeeease? =)  K… thanks… (Whatever You just said.)

May we all live thankful lives…

Blue Eyes…

That was a good book… more pictures than words… (Remembering Sinatra)

Which isn’t true, but it’s the pictures you remember, the words are there too, but they make more of the impression on me that most people expect words to have, and those words, well, they were more of vague, ideas… stories, without lines, without edges…

anyway…

Frank Sinatra’s dead… and I never knew how despicable his life really was.

z’Funny… I’m sitting here, and my computer’s not connecting to the internet, and for a long time tonight, I felt like I couldn’t write anything, because… well, I wouldn’t be able to share it.

Silly, huh?

Only kinda…

Well, I’m supposed to work tomorrow, I slept quite a bit yesterday, and read all through the night, almost…

Now I’m sitting here, after not having slept much today, any really…

and trying to pull the same stunt…

I think it’ll come through… just might take a few tugs…

I asked once, if anyone knew how long the average human could go without sleep before they died…

My sister quickly pointed out the utter morbidity implied by such a question… I hadn’t noticed… but she was right… and I found it kinda funny after that.

Anyway, it’s been kind of a semi-joke, ever since.

Useful to have such things laying around, when you want to tell a story, or make a point, you can just pick up a little narrative like that and swing it around, or scribble something out with it…

bang it into something, or chuck it at a door.  But only if you’re in the same room with someone.  Only if they’re sitting at that table, and can see you pick it up, and know what it is you’re waving around.

The more stories you’ve got, the more intriguing your rants can be…

But, I’ve seen the art go both ways…  good and bad…

Some people have nothing but stories, and they’re a bore… un-useful.

It’s the people who have life behind the stories… not only real life, but a life in the head… a mind that says, “now this isn’t just something that happened once, it’s something that -boy did it ever make me think… or, man, it’s just dripping with the kinda stuff that yanks a guy’s feet out from underneath him, and makes him look up and start asking questions… “

I’ve gotta get me some of those stories, I told myself… but those stories aren’t got, they’re given…

I just gotta keep living, I guess.

Find some guys that are as good at telling stories as they are at living them, and call it good… for now.

I’m gonna be one of those guys some day…

Sits down on a park bench and can just roll out a little bit of a long life, and make it mean something worthwhile to a nobody-yet.

I can’t smoke… I just can’t… but if I could get that raspy voice, and that squint that comes from the kind of trouble that always seems to be framed in smoke… without smoking, I’d sure take it.

More useful things laying around to take the place of mere, lifeless words…

See, a story’s made of words, but it’s so much more… a story’s a mirror to life, and life can’t help but be truth… Truth is valuable… and words by themselves can only get you so close…

Stories… stories ARE truth… or at least contain it.

And by stories, I’m talking, the kind of accounts you hear all the time when you spend an afternoon in a nursing home, or when you’re on the bus with a guy who’s seen the world, from different hemispheres, different decades, different occupations, different convictions… and has the fortune of remembering enough on a chance afternoon, to slip a few out of his pocket and slide them across the table for you to take a peek at.

I remember my dad telling my brother and I a story of a time when he rolled his car off into a ditch, going pretty fast… at the time he first told it, I realize now, I didn’t give it much of a thought, or care…

But thinking about it now, after having been reminded once or twice… I’ve come to value, and treasure those little glimpses of his story… I wonder how far back it could go…

I could give a glimpse of a glimpse my dad had of a glimpse his had, of a glimpse his grandfather had of HIS dad’s story… and that’d be nearly back around the mid 1700’s… imagine!

Telling stories and caring enough to sit up and take note… not only for your own sake, but for the sake of every eventual member of that line.

Cuz truth is useful… valuable… indespensible.

So, to sit here, silently, not only without sound, but without words or thoughts shared or stored away somewhere, but simply hoarded, Just because they couldn’t soonly be shared? how absurd, and yet… that’s exactly the path my mind wandered down… and so naturally.

My legs are tired now, and I can tell that if I set this aside, and close my eyes to sleep, I will, but I just know it’ll be a sleep full of dreams, I can feel it… it’s just one of those things…

Like, when your mom’s sitting in the light-lit hallway between the dark, girl’s and boy’s rooms, on a summer’s night… and reads that opening sentence to that thin book she’s holding in her hand… when the shampoo and soap smell mixed in the towel beneath your cheek floods your nose, and your mind, and apparently your memory too.  Anyway, with those few words, that tell you “A story is coming… here… it… is:”

Just by that, you know that the words that will follow are bound to evoke vivid, life-reflecting pictures in the mind… of something you’ve most likely never seen.  But it’s something that exists… not necessarily to say “this is what happened.” But to reach deeper into meaning and expression, and say this… is a glimpse into the never-changing truth.

Tell the stories… see the truth… soak in the relevance… pour out the wisdom… use the tools, see the art… thank the Maker.

My internet’s still broken…

and I still feel that, at present, unquenchable desire, to share these words with someone… with many someone’s perhaps…

Alas, I shall do as I said earlier I could… and that is, to set this aside, and close my eyes… I might keep ahold of my dreams long enough to share them with you, before they dissolve into daylight.

We shall see, and time will tell.
Until then…

Fare thee
Very well.

-MAC <>< = )